


Harpoon

by mytimehaspassed



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Drugged Sex, Drugs, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Prostitution, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-12
Updated: 2010-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-22 09:09:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mytimehaspassed/pseuds/mytimehaspassed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To be honest, you’re not so sure you mind him anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harpoon

**HARPOON**  
SUPERNATURAL  
Dean/OMC (non-con); (non-con) John/Dean; (allusions to) Sam/Dean  
 **WARNINGS** : AU post-"Devil's Trap;" non-consenual sex; abuse; kidnapping; drug use; prostitution

  
To be honest, you’re not so sure you mind him anymore. When he comes in to check your wounds, unwrap the bandages with skilled fingers and poke and prod and re-wrap again, when he checks the metal handcuffs encasing your wrists and connecting them to the sides of your standard hospital bed, when he takes your temperature and fiddles with your IV and shines a flashlight in your eyes, he tells you that you’ll never be able to go home. He says, this is your home now. This twenty foot prison cell like the best hotel you’ve ever stayed in.

When he comes in to smile and stand by your bed and help you drink and eat, when he tells you stories about the farm he used to live on as a child, Idaho, he says, smiling smiling, when his fingers ghost across your arm and up and up, swipe tenderly across your cheekbone, he says, you’d like it there. He says, it’s gonna all be okay now. The nights when you cry out for Sammy and Dad, the nights you wake up with hot tears on your face, cold sweat blanketing your skin, those nights are coming few and far between and you’re starting to forget more easily than before.

He tells you that you should just get used to this because it’s never gonna end and you’ll never be able to leave. He says, you’re mine now.

To be honest, really truthfully painfully honest, you’re not so sure that you even care anymore.

***

For awhile there after Caleb first took you away, you were lost in memories that rolled like waves. You imagined him as Dad, as Sammy, as Mom sometimes, and he’d stroke your hair until you could see him again. For whatever reason, you only became coherent when he touched you.

***

The thing is, you’re starting to forget everything that came before him. The first thing to go is the image of Mom’s face, sweet in the way vanilla and cherry blossoms are, sweet in the way that her smile is so big it radiates warmth that envelops your entire body. Her mouth was never lined in so many wrinkles like it was that night, just before the fire, just before the world ended. Her nightgown white and soft and bunched in your fist when you tugged on it, her blonde hair as vibrant as what you imagine gold looks like, her soft caress on baby Sammy’s little cheek.

It used to come to you so easily, and now: nothing.

The thing is, your mom’s been replaced by the image of Caleb smiling. His lips are round and pink and begging to be touched, and he drugs you up so good that you almost forget your own prejudices. You almost forget what your father has told you.

The thing is, your mom’s face has turned into that silky hand slithering up the span of your forearm, the length of your thigh. What used to be Mom and her perfume sweet smell, Mom and her evening gown pearls, shiny white that hangs down to tickle your nose as she kisses your forehead goodnight, what used to be your Mom is now Caleb laughing and leaning down to take your bottom lip between his teeth. What used to be memories of your shitty family’s whole focal point, the exact center, what memories used to be tied to words like loss and failure and revenge, all that is now Caleb and his fingers and his beautiful smile.

The thing is, he keeps you so high that you doubt you’ll ever be able to pinpoint exactly when these memories changed. Your veins have closed up once, twice, three times since you’ve been here and your arms are scarred with track marks, but as long as he keeps giving you the good stuff, you’ll keep letting him.

***

Dad caught you once, behind some dive of a hotel, the brick wall scratching your cheek as this guy takes you from behind, the smell of sewage and trash and alley burning sharp like fire in your nostrils, like thick black smoke. This guy, you hadn’t really looked at his face, and it’s too dark back here to really study, and all you really care about are his hands on your hips, pressing down so his fingernails bite the skin hard enough to draw blood. All you really care about is this feeling, this, like you’re so full of him that you’ll explode. When this guy’s done and he brings you in close enough to slip the fifty into your hand, when this is all said and done and that feeling is fading slowly, you turn to see your father.

Really, this guy, this john, you never really got a good look at his face until your father fucked it up. Dad and his fists and this guy’s face, it’s so not a good combination and if you weren’t trained as hard as you were, you’d probably just start crying. It takes two, maybe three, tries to help Dad gain his control back and he’s turning on you and you’re falling under his blows and for everything he’s taught you, for all those days he spent instructing you for moments exactly like these, you’ve forgotten everything.

Dad and his fists and his nails like claws and whatever he’s saying, whatever he’s shouting, it’s getting lost in the cloud of blood that’s pounding in your ears. And then finally it stops and he’s pulling you up, pulling you tight to him, and your blood is coating his clothes and you’re shivering so hard it moves him. His hands in your hair and on your face, his eyes are wet, and the only reason you’re sorry is because Sammy isn’t here to see this, to see what he’s become. Maybe if he did, maybe if Sam was there that night, he wouldn’t have left you.

Your father, he strokes your face with fingers covered in your blood, in the john’s blood, he traces your mouth over and over and maybe if you were in tune with everything, maybe if you gave the world a lot less credit, you would have figured out where this would lead. Maybe if you weren’t so goddamn stupid, you’d have realized why he’s doing this, and maybe, just maybe, you could’ve stopped everything before it started.

This, you tell Caleb, your smile tight and bitter and his thumb soft on the underside of your chin, his fingers squeezing so faintly. This, you say, is when the nightmares started.

***

A few days before you’re almost healed, Caleb comes in to take the cuffs off. “We’re moving,” he says, and helps you sit up. The world tilts and everything that possibly can aches, but he doesn’t even spare a pitying glance in your direction, just helps you into sweat pants, a tee shirt, helps you downstairs and out to the car that’s waiting. The sky looks dark and angry and some part of you wants to feel just like that, some part of you wants to get beyond this numbness that permeates your body and hurt Caleb as much as you know he’s hurting you. Caleb lays you down in the backseat, folds a blanket over your prone form, teasing two fingers beneath your waist band, and smiles.

His fingers warm against your cool skin, he says, “There’s a little orchard out in California.” His teeth so bright they make your eyes hurt, he says, “You’ll love it there.”

***

The thing is, Kansas has been replaced, and now you’re not so sure you remember the reason why you ever wanted to go back.

***

Caleb doesn’t mention your family and you don’t go out of your way to bring them up, but days after the move with nothing to do but drink expensive wine and fuck, you get him drunk enough to tell you everything. His body wrapped tightly around yours, his eyes are drooping and his mouth is getting clumsy, falling short of where he wants to put it, but his smile is still as beautiful as always. He says, they were getting too close, his voice slurred and toxic, but you know he means Dad and Sam. With everything that has gone down, you still always knew they would look for you.

He says, they’re too smart, too adept at picking up trails that should have been nonexistent. He says, they’re too goddamned good.

You feel this tug at your heart, this pull, and maybe that’s just because you’re glad they made it out of the crash alive, or maybe it’s because you’re so insanely pleased that it’s your turn to be tracked down and rescued. Or maybe it’s the fact that when they do find you, when they finally get here and confront Caleb, you’re not sure whether they’ll be able to take you without a fight.

Caleb and his smile, he says, “Don’t worry.” Caleb and his drunken mouth, he says, “You’ll always be mine.”

And maybe after all this, maybe even with the knowledge that your family will come and get you someday, with or without bloodshed, maybe you’re just not sure that he’s wrong.

***

You never told Sammy about you and Dad. You regret it now, you regret everything you did to protect him because when the time came, he left you there without so much as an explanation or apology. You think, maybe if he knew, maybe if you had told him what happened night after night in those hotel rooms, why, after a fight, Dad checked you for injuries much longer than he did with Sam, why you had more bruises afterwards than before. You think, maybe if you had told him everything, Sam would have fucked college and stayed with you instead.

You regret everything you did to protect Sam, to protect Dad, because after everything, you still got caught by the enemy. After every little risk you took or precaution you made, after every attempt of salvaging what you called your family, you were still the one that got fucked because they weren’t there to back you up. Really, and maybe these are just Caleb’s words coming out of your mouth, but they’ve never been there for you.

Much of that night of the crash has been lost to you, some aftereffect of the drugs or concussion or whatever, but you remember everything the demon made your father say to you. If it hadn’t of been common knowledge, if Sam being Dad’s favorite or the fact that you were the one who leeched off them wasn’t already known to you, you might have been more pissed off. If the demon hadn’t have reminded you of how useless you really were, of just how hopeless you had become, maybe Caleb wouldn’t have been sent for you and maybe you wouldn’t have gone with him.

If that demon had skipped the monologue and just killed you, maybe you would have been a whole lot better off.

***

The thing is, with all the drugs Caleb’s been crushing up and pouring into your glasses of wine, with all the drugs you’ve been sneaking out of his medicine cabinet, you’ve pretty much forgotten everything. Caleb gives you some kind of mix of uppers and downers, enough to make you content and compliant when his hand reaches for your thigh, but not enough to let you think hard about anything, especially what you left behind.

The thing is, you’re pretty okay with it.

***

To be honest, when they do finally manage to come and rescue you, you’re so fucking high that you couldn’t care one way or the other even if you wanted to.

When Caleb installed the super high tech alarm system you wanted to tell him that you came from the Winchester family and they were skilled at every kind of burglar deterrent, but you doubt he would have listened to you anyway. So when you wake up one night and Sam’s standing over top of you with this confused look on his face, you just start laughing. Caleb jerks up, awake and reaching for the gun he keeps underneath his pillow, but Dad’s faster than that, your favorite shot gun pointed straight at his temple.

Caleb goes first, this little frown on his face, but he’s looking straight at you, saying, “He’s mine now, he wants this, he chose this,” and even if it is true, you know it’s not going to fly. Sam is looking more confused by the minute, and you just can’t stop laughing. The thing is, maybe if you had told him about everything between you and Dad, his little crush on you could have escalated into something more.

Through your tears, you can’t see Dad, but you’re sure the only reason why he wants to kill Caleb is to reclaim his property. With your body shaking like that, you can’t see the look of disgust on Sam’s face, but you know it’ll be there once he realizes that you’re high. With your inability to do anything but laugh, it almost doesn’t register when your father pulls the trigger and Caleb’s blood explodes all over your face.

To be honest, you’re not sure that it’s so funny anymore, but you’ll do anything to keep yourself from crying in front of your father.

Sam reaches for your arm to lift you out of the bed but before he can drag you down the stairs, Dad backhands you across the face and you crumple to the floor in muted agony. Sam screams something, pushes against your father’s reach, but all you can think about is Caleb’s smile. All you can remember are those days in your little prison cell, those days of drugs and kisses and losing the battle with your memory. All you can taste is Caleb’s blood in your mouth, and suddenly nothing’s funny anymore, nothing was ever funny, and your high is fading so fast you’re starting to wonder if it was ever there in the first place. Suddenly, it’s you with the shot gun and it’s your father’s temple caught in the sight.

You’re thinking, if you had just told Sam about everything in the beginning, he wouldn’t be screaming at you now, he wouldn’t be trying to manhandle the gun from your grip, he wouldn’t be crying at the grave injustice of all of this. If you had just told Sam, he would be helping you kill your father.

You’re thinking, you don’t have time to explain any of this.

To be honest with yourself, with everyone, with all of this, you never planned on shooting your father. One minute Caleb’s gone forever, and the next, the cold barrel of the gun in your palm, aching with your sweat and tears, you guess you just got caught up in the moment. You guess with all the shit he’s put you through in the last ten years, he had it coming. You guess with everything you’ve done for him, no excuse would ever be good enough for you.

To be really truthfully painfully honest, you’re glad Sam jerked your hand away right before you pulled the trigger.

The thing is, even with the demon’s plan obliterated because Caleb’s out of the picture, even with your family once again on the run, the only thing you’ll ever regret is losing the memory of your mother.


End file.
